


Everybody Has A Price

by eroticsenin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Betrayal, Corruption, Cuckolding, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gangbang, Group Sex, Implied/Referenced Cheating, MILFs, Multi, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eroticsenin/pseuds/eroticsenin
Summary: A study into human nature and the human psyche. What if we knew what it would take for anyone to do anything?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 24





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first attempt at writing an Erotica, and a multi-part Erotica at that. Any feedback, comments, and the like are very welcome.

**Prologue**

Everybody has a **price**. Human nature is as such – whatever pretences we may put up about our convictions; our red lines; our ‘nevers’ – the truth is at for the right price, with the right incentives, you can get anyone to do _anything_.

For the right **price** , anything could happen. History tells us as much. You could get a police officer to turn a blind eye to a speeding ticket for a thousand dollars. You could get enforcement agencies ignore lapses in your company’s compliance with the relevant laws for hundreds of thousands of dollars. You could even get a person to betray his country – to sell state secrets to the enemy, for millions of dollars and maybe an offer of asylum. So long as the **price** is _right_ , nothing is impossible. And with the **knowledge** of one’s price, and the **means** to fulfil it, you can get anyone to do anything.

Many people do this in fun ways all the time. Sure, there are boring ways of doing this, like hiring someone to deliver your food, or send you from Point A to Point B. There are even less boring (read: fun) ways of doing this, like hiring a prostitute to play with her tits and to blow a load in her mouth. And yet there are _truly exciting_ ways of doing this. You could get your childhood crush - that sweet girl you never got around to confessing your feelings to, petite and quiet, to spread her legs open for you and beg for your cum. You could get your hot, MILF neighbour who always wears that tight-fitting bodycon dress around to drool over your cock and jerk it off with her Double Ds while she’s on a date. You could even to get _that_ celebrity of your dreams to degrade herself and let you cum **all** over her. A titjob from Alexandra Daddario; doggy-style with Alison Brie; or fucking Ariana Grande in the ass – all possibilities, and that’s just the ones whose names start with A.

“But that’s impossible!”, you may think, “these people would never do that no matter what! They’re not _that_ kind of person. They would never sell their bodies for anything.” Maybe they hold themselves out as by-the-book individuals; only ever exercising their powers for the benefit of others, never bending the rules. Or maybe they appear to be people of conviction; there are certain things that they would just _never_ do, no matter what anyone may offer them – least of all sex stuff. It’s just… not right. Or _maybe_ they may seem to be incorruptible because they already have it all! Money, power, fame, beauty, and so on. What more could they possibly want?

Well, my friend, your first mistake is in thinking of “price” as a financial concept, or even something that is merely material. The truth is, we are driven by so much more than just banal ideas like money, power, fame. We are driven by our pressures, our weaknesses, our secret desires. We are driven by circumstances, by sheer _luck_. We are driven by the lies we tell ourselves and the truths that unmask our lies. We think that money can’t change our minds, but what about **one hundred million dollars**? We think that power can’t seduce us, but what about **revenge**? We think that fame has no sway over us, but what about getting it from the people you _actually care_ about? Sometimes, all it can take is one bad day (or one good day) to change the trajectory of our lives forever, to get us to do something we would otherwise _never_ do. I would know – because that’s _exactly_ what happened to me.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t a bad day. It was a good day, followed by many, many, great days. It’s how I _know_ all this stuff – how I know that my tease of a friend who stabbed me in the back and who _hates_ hypocrites was willing to suck my cock and call herself my little slut; how I know that this Instagram celebrity who said she would “never do porn” would let me film her jerking off two strangers while her big tits were fondled; how I know that the hotshot dickbag CEO’s hot wife would let me assfuck her in the restaurant bathroom while her husband was getting arrested for fraud – **all** _for the right price_. When I was granted the knowledge, and the means, how could I resist? And if you’ve gotten this far – you _know_ you probably wouldn’t either. So while I can’t pass this gift to you, I can at least let you vicariously experience what it’s like to have your way with whomever you want, however you want, whenever you want. This is the story of how I learnt that _everybody_ has a price.


	2. Chapter 1: Saffron Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I explore my gift on the first person that came to mind: my ex-friend, betrayer, and big time tease - Saffron.

One of the things that I’ve come to learn only some time after my gift was imparted to me is that it feels much better to make someone do something they already want to do, but just can’t admit to wanting to. I mean, sure – it was also fun to see attractive women have their lips wrapped around my cock because they had no choice but to do so, but it’s a different feeling altogether to get someone to admit to their shameful, basest desires. It’s the kind of feeling that you’d get when you mix the wholesome feeling of charity with the dark pleasures of domination. It’s something that I didn’t even realise was so intoxicating when I first got Saffron to admit that she _wanted_ to suck my cock; that she _wanted_ to be called a good girl; that she _wanted_ to be my slut. But I get ahead of myself. First, I need to tell you a bit about Saffron.

From the moment I laid eyes on her, Saffron was the kind of girl that I knew I _wanted_. She was petite: not too tall and not too short, tits that were not too big and not too small, and an ass that was just the right size for you to comfortably smack. There she was in the middle of that large university lecture hall; wearing that red shirt that doesn’t quite scream slutty, but that lets you _almost_ get a glimpse of her tits if she bends down just enough; and those shorts that hugged her ass so tightly that they _almost_ bounced with every step she took. She was the centre of everyone’s attention, and she knew it. When she asked you for help with those big puppy-dog eyes of hers, she knows that you’re not going to say no. And if she thinks that maybe you might not be so willing, that’s when she leans across the table from you and bends down ever-so-slightly, just enough for you to think that you’re going to see some cleavage. But of course, she wouldn’t actually show anyone anything at all, lest anyone think she be some common slut or whore – she wouldn’t have that, no sir. She would have nothing less than being the very picture of elegance, refinement, and intelligence; yet with just the right amount of “won’t you please help me mister?” to make everyone putty in her hands. Besides, she had a boyfriend! A boyfriend whom she was rumoured to be cheating on every now and then at the club – but even then, just whispers. No one would dare say to her face (or to her boyfriend’s face) that they heard rumours of her grinding up against random strangers and letting them grope her, but you can be sure that any hot-blooded male definitely thought about it a lot – especially when she would come to ask them to help her with this and that; or better still for a shoulder to cry on.

I was no exception to that rule. When she came crying to me one day (back when I didn’t know that I was one of a million guys she would come crying to) when we were working on a project together, I reacted like any other guy would – patiently listen, comfort, touch, and maybe hope to get in her pants. But she knew never to let anyone she knew to get that far, lest we think any less of her. Not even close! She would draw the boundaries clearly – drink with you, sure. Cuddle with you? Almost definitely not. She was faithful, “exclusive” to her boyfriend, as far as anyone knew. In any case, I respected that she didn’t want to play around, and that contrary to the rumours that I’d heard, that she was actually shaping up to be a good friend to have. And friends we indeed became (or so I thought!), spending long hours on that project and a few more after. Being her friend, I was always happy to help her out – giving her a ride home, helping her with her parts when she told me she was lost, and so on. It came as quite the rude shock to me, therefore, when she eventually just decided to cut me out of her life completely – after months of ranting about her boyfriend, sharing about her hopes and dreams, and going on long dinner “dates”. Not that I expected to be anything more than a friend, but it still hurt when someone you thought you shared a friendship with suddenly decides to have nothing to do with you anymore, and without a word.

It was only later that I found out why: it was something I said, something I didn’t even remember, that she claims to have been offended by. A hypocrite, she called me (not that I’m _not_ a hypocrite, as you may come to see the more you read about my adventures), and she would have nothing to do with hypocrites. But the more people I talked to about this, the more I realised the beginnings of a pattern: that all her friendships (male and female alike) seemed to end after a nice few months, when it would blow up into something apparently irreparable. That’s when I realised – we weren’t friends. Maybe she doesn’t even have friends; only tools. Now that, I thought, was the pinnacle of hypocrisy.

So when my gift was imparted to me, she was the first person I thought of. I wanted to get in her head, to find out what actually made her tick, to find out why she’d left these people behind (myself included) and what her deal really was. I won’t go into the details of just how exactly I got my gift and how it works just yet – but all you need to know for now is that it helped me to learn what someone’s price for doing _anything_ is: from the mundane things like helping you to do something within their skillset (to write your essay?) to less mundane things like taking your cock in her mouth and calling you daddy.

But it came as a great surprise to me that her “price” for doing just that was shockingly low – she wouldn’t need to be paid any money or even be coerced into doing it. I learnt the truth that she couldn’t admit to others, and even to herself - was that she wanted to be a complete slut to the people that she ended up creating and breaking friendships with. It wasn’t that she was using us, not at all. To the contrary, she wanted us to **use her** , and to **use her** in the most depraved ways that she would never even hint at admitting to. It turned out that she had been nursing a porn addiction from right before puberty to this very day, consuming copious amounts of gangbang & cuckold porn (amongst other less depraved genres) and always imagining herself being in the position of the female pornstar. She would read erotic story after erotic story, masturbating herself to orgasm before she slept. But when she thought that we would come close to learning her secret – her secret that she wouldn’t even admit to herself; when her urge to tell us that she really, really wanted us to cum all over her face became too much for her to bear; that was when she would cook up some excuse to cut us out of her life completely.

I have to admit that I was sad. I was sad for her, that she couldn’t even admit this to herself. I was sad that our friendship had to have ended this way. I was sad that so many of her other friendships – even the female ones, had to have ended the way they did. But I also have to admit that I was very, very excited. Contrary to my expectations of having to buy, blackmail, and brute-force my way into my fantasy sexual liaisons, it turned out that the girl I wanted to have first, was also going to be the easiest.

My plan was simple, and it went off without a hitch. I called her to apologise and asked her if she wanted to grab some coffee to maybe try to repair our friendship. From her reaction, I gather that my apology really shocked her; I must have been the first to apologise for the bullshit reasons that she came up with. I’m sure she felt guilty, and almost definitely very horny, which is why she agreed to meet me that very same afternoon.

It didn’t take much work on my end after I met her at the Starbucks near her place. She was dressed in her usual, perfected mix of slutty and innocent – except this time, I thought to myself, I was going to see what she looked like without those clothes. All I had to do was to tell her, sweetly, and with a smile on my face, that I knew her secret – and that she could stop me anytime if what I was saying wasn’t true. I told her, sparing no detail, that I knew that she wanted me to use her; that she wanted all her friends to use her; that she wanted to be passed around from friend to friend like the village bicycle until she passed out from her orgasms. I told her exactly what she thought about me; that she wished that the nights we had spent together could have been punctuated with blowjobs and mind-blowing sex; that she wished that the alcohol would have taken just enough inhibition out of her that she would kiss me and get on her knees and beg for my cock; that she wanted to be my slut.

As I told her these things, I watched her grow redder, yet never asking me to stop. I watched her shift uncomfortably in her seat, her hands moving towards the centre of her shorts, yet stopping just short of it. I watched her look of guilt and arousal turn into a look of pure arousal when I told her that I’d booked a room at the Hilton where we could go right now, and I’d do to the her the nasty things that she wanted to me to.

And what a night it became – yes, you read night correctly because we spent the next five hours in that hotel room exploring each other’s bodies and bringing each other to the best orgasms we’d had that year so far. I wish I had the words to describe my feeling of pure arousal and ecstasy when she finally stripped for me, her face burning with embarrassment and arousal as I told her bend over and spread her ass; when she moaned in pleasure as my fingers gently – then increasingly aggressively thrusted in and out of her pussy; when she shivered ever-so-slightly after I told her to turn around, get on her knees, and beg for permission to suck my cock – then did exactly as I told her to, and more. In many ways, that night she showed me that she was every bit the girl that I _wanted_ ; the girl who was just as depraved as I was; the girl who called me her slut before bobbing her head up and down my cock; the girl whom I fucked to the brink of orgasm countless times before I would suddenly stop and only continue when she begged me to do so; the girl who – for that night – no longer cared about restraining herself and only cared about fulfilling her fantasies and mine. It was love in a manner so twisted that I’m not sure I can even call it love: it was simply the mutual acknowledgement of our repressed sexual desires for one another, base and animalistic.

After I finally called her out on her deepest desires, she finally gave in to them – not only that night, but many, many nights after. She wasn’t about to give up her external image of being prim, proper, and the picture of elegance, and she didn’t. But she wasn’t about to give up the newfound ecstasy that she experienced when she gave in to her darkest desires. So I helped her facilitate that, and I found like-minded individuals who were more than willing to keep their mouths shut in exchange for finally being able to fuck Saffron as part of her weekly Gangbang Entourage (and fuck them she did – they filled her every hole and her every desire). In exchange for my discretion and facilitation, she promised to fulfil every fantasy of mine that she could; which is, as you will come to see, not really that many fantasies – she’s just one girl. But be that as it may, I never liked her boyfriend. He was always insufferable about having every guy’s dream fuck as his girlfriend (not that he was really good in bed, but he was rich, well-connected, and I’ll give it to him – relatively talented), but she was mine now (relatively speaking – she was everybody’s now), and I wanted him to know.

So I took her up on her offer. We continued our frequent sexual liaisons, of course, and it always brought me pleasure to hear her call herself a slut while I slammed her pussy. But what really brought me to new heights of pleasure was when I made her call her boyfriend while I was slamming her pussy and talk to him about basically nothing at all. I just wanted him to hear her occassionally stumble in her replies and struggle to catch her breath. I wanted him to wonder if she was cheating on him (“no of course not honey, I’m just at the gym but I really missed you!”). I wanted him to wonder if those slurping sounds he heard was really just her taking a water break, all while she was taking my aggressive thrusts down her throat.

It’s one thing to dominate someone – it’s another to dominate them when they don’t even know they’re being dominated. He did, of course, eventually find out – and he wouldn’t be the last to experience that. But that, and those other stories, I’ll save for another day. For now, this is the story of how I went from thinking that Saffron really sucks, to finding out that she really sucks cock, really well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments, as always, are very welcome :)


	3. Chapter 2: Charlie, you're a Cuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After my experience with finally having Saffron, I turn my sights to a different kind of bad person: Charlie, her boyfriend. But perhaps not in the way you might think.

I’m sure you’re all familiar with the saying that goes “power corrupts”, but “absolute power corrupts absolutely”. If you’re like me, you might have thought to yourself: “well, so what? As long as **I’m** the one holding on to that kind of power, then maybe it’s okay.” After all, corruption means that we’re made into someone, or something worse as a result of that power. But as I came to learn when my gift was imparted to me, I think that power tends to bring out what was already inside us all along. We want to do what makes us feel good, what feels _right_ to us – and the only reason why we don’t do that more often, most of the time, is not because we don’t **want** to but because we aren’t **able** to. But when we become able to? Well, let’s just say that I never thought revenge through poetic sexual justice (is that even a term) could feel _so_ good.

If you recall, I’ve already experienced that kind of sexual justice in one way: where I got to make the person who hurt me, whom I thought used me, whom I thought was a real bitch, get on her knees and let me fuck all of those negative emotions into her mouth, her throat, her pussy, and her ass. In some ways, this was what you might call hatefucking – even if it’s not quite. When I found out the truth about her, I didn’t exactly hate her anymore. But it still felt cathartic and so incredibly blissful to unload all of that negativity into the person who caused it. I suppose she knew that too, and I could feel her arousal multiply because of all these emotions she carried at the same time: guilt, attraction, and pure unbridled lust. If how I feel about Saffron doesn’t quite make sense to you, just think about the times in your life when you were wronged by a friend; when you were unfairly treated; when you were betrayed. Now imagine resolving all of that tension by fucking and dominating the person responsible for it. If it’s someone of the opposite gender, and especially if they’re hot, how good is that gonna feel?

But I’m sure some of you were repulsed slightly by the idea of fucking the person (friend, boss, whatever) who wronged you. Maybe you’re a guy and you’ve ever only been wronged by other guys, or vice versa. Or maybe you just can’t imagine yourself ever being sexually attracted to that other person. If you felt that way, then maybe you understand how I felt about Saffron’s insufferable dickbag boyfriend, Charlie.

Charlie is the kind of guy that everyone loved to hate – in private. He was the kind of guy that you didn’t want as an enemy, lest he make your life unnecessarily difficult, but also the kind of guy that you wouldn’t want as a friend… lest he make your life unnecessarily difficult. After all, with his level of wealth and familial connection, he could really follow through with a grudge, which he demonstrated on someone who crossed him in the first year of college. This idiot (I’ll call him A) was on a sports scholarship: the typical jock who also had more than half a brain, but not enough to restrain his overblown ego that had doubtlessly been stroked by his teammates and booty calls. So A, not knowing that Charlie was Saffron’s boyfriend, decided to openly announce his intention to pursue her a week into the first week of college – and worse still, didn’t back down even after he found out. Instead, A doubled-down on provoking Charlie and trying to seduce Saffron (not that he was successful, as you might imagine). He might have been brawnier than Charlie could ever be, but that didn’t stop him from mysteriously losing his sports scholarship and getting expelled for “sexual harassment”. The air quotes are there because… well, you get the idea.

So that was Charlie: dickbag, annoying to be around, but will ‘bless’ you with little favours if you’re nice to him and make your life real difficult if you’re not. Needless to say, I didn’t go out of my way to cross him, and always remained on good terms with him while I was friends with Saffron. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that he didn’t completely get on my nerves; from little things like that sneer that he’d always walk around with, to more substantial things like always taking credit for others’ ideas and work, to the really infuriating things like using his wealth and connections to bully those he thought he could get away with bullying. Sure, people like A deserved what was coming to them, but there were a ton of others whom Charlie made sure to make difficult to find a job, or to make them effectively invisible – and for “wrongs” on a far smaller scale, like knocking into him and not saying sorry.

When it comes to a guy like Charlie, sexual justice doesn’t mean fucking them. I wouldn’t do it if you gave me a million dollars (but hey, everybody has a price, right?). It means dominating them by dominating and fucking their sexy loved ones, and I just so happened to already have his trophy girlfriend wrapped around my cock and twenty others.

For the first few months after I started to break Saffron in, I was careful not to let our ‘affair’ slip. Like I said, I wanted seeds of doubt forming in his mind – I wanted him to panic and double-down on making sure that he didn’t lose her. Of course, he had already lost her by then. With my help, she had fully embraced her sexual desires and was able to effectively keep up her double life of high-powered professional by day, gangbang slut by night. She always made time to have special nights with me every now and then, but that was more out of appreciation and as payment for my discretion in arranging the best gangbangs for her than out of any desire to settle down. Saffron was well and properly a full-blown slut by then, and she had no need for Charlie any longer. But at my behest, she agreed to keep it going a little longer.

Even with my gift, I knew that it wouldn’t be easy to get that kind of poetic justice on Charlie. But the serendipitous gift of Saffron’s sluttiness and allegiance made things far simpler. Between what Charlie could offer and what Saffron was willing to offer, most of Charlie’s friends (who never really liked him anyway) were more than happy to break off their friendship with him in exchange for a filmed blowjob with Saffron, which they could keep as a memento. Of course, this worked in Saffron’s advantage too, since their face was fully visible in the video while you could only make out the back of Saffron’s head and ass. Some of them who were a little more difficult to persuade, out of some misguided sense of loyalty, still gave in after Saffron agreed to call them and make the offer personally (“Oh Jack, won’t you come and see me? I’ve seen the way you look at me, and I know you want me. I’m offering to suck your cock and let you cum in my mouth or on my face; however you want it. I’m not going to make that offer twice, darling”).

You’d be surprised how hard it is to resist an offer to get a blowjob from the girl you’ve always been dreaming about, especially when she articulated it so sexily you could cum just from hearing her talk about sucking you off. And thanks to my gift, I knew that **all** of Charlie’s friends would have given anything to have her suck them off to orgasm and cover her pretty face with their cum.

Some of the more attractive ones, Saffron decided to have a little more fun with. She let some of them finger her to orgasm (which, if they didn’t, I would have done anyway) and the more well-endowed ones she got to give her a good pounding. She was insatiable, and I learnt through trial and error which of the rooms at the Hilton were more soundproof than others. In any case, I don’t think anyone really minded hearing those sultry moans of pleasure. Other times, I just stopped the moans of pleasure from coming out by sticking my cock in her mouth while the other guy fucked her doggy-style on the bed. She would always happily oblige to the spitroast (sometimes asking for it, even), cheerfully bouncing back and forth between two cocks, her moans vibrating down mine. That was when I learnt what an “Eiffel Tower” meant, and dang did it feel good – especially when you were fucking the hot girlfriend of a stuck-up asshole (sometimes, in her ass).

When Charlie began losing his friends, he didn’t try to find new ones at first – he just imagined that he had more friends and he clung on to Saffron instead. She was spending less time with him, which I imagine must have added to his paranoia ( _especially_ with the phone calls I got her to make), so he decided to get her ‘back’ by showering her with more gifts and money; basically how he’s done things all his life. She welcomed all of that, of course, and I didn’t stop her from very sensually expressing her appreciation to him, which he took as a sign that all was well. Folks: just because your girlfriend/wife is still enthusiastically fucking you doesn’t meant that you’re not a cuck; she might just be a nympho.

Eventually, I got bored with all this subterfuge. After a few months, I’d gathered enough footage of Saffron sucking cocks, riding cocks, and getting stuffed in every hole for me to make a nice two-hour collage of fifty odd sexual encounters that she’s had, with friends and strangers alike. If you’ve ever watched those JAV videos where an oblivious husband receives a video of his wife being gangbanged by strangers until she becomes a delirious slut – that was pretty much the kind of collage I was making, except Saffron was a willing participant from the very start. I told Saffron that it was okay to break up with him, and then sent him that video through a burner email a week later.

I wish I knew how he reacted to that video, but the process of making it was catharsis and justice enough for me; not to mention lots of fun. All I know is that he suddenly vanished from the public consciousness; nobody seemed to know where he went. Some guy said that he left the country and decided to remake his life somewhere in Asia, and I decided that if were true, he’s suffered enough.

Armed with my gift, and these experiences that made me sure of what I was now capable of doing, the possibilities seemed endless – and they were. I thought of all the sexy strangers that I’d pass by and always wonder about: that cute barista who’s barely able to hide her cleavage; that jogger whose ass would jiggle beckoningly as I watched her pass; those groups of girls in their bodycon dresses going out for a night out. I thought about how good it would have to have all of them on my cock, or taking my cock in them, and I knew exactly what it would take. I thought of all the hot girlfriends, wives, and daughters of the scumbags of this earth; how good it would feel to take them for myself – and exactly what it would take. But that – as always – is a story for another day.


	4. What's this Stranger's price?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I explore applications of my power on an eye-grabbingly attractive stranger.

If you went as far as to open this story, I’m sure that you’ve checked out a stranger before. Maybe she had a really nice ass, and you couldn’t help but take a double take at her. Maybe her tits were practically popping out of her dress, and you couldn’t help but stare. Or maybe her face just looked like she came straight out from a movie, and you couldn’t help but admire how perfect and cute she looked. I’m no different – I’ve stared and gazed, usually wistfully, at these women as they almost swagger past, or as they sit proudly and assuredly in the knowledge that all eyes were on them. But because we live in a proper, civil society, we don’t just go up to these beautiful women and tell them about what we’d **really** like to do with them and to them. No, those thoughts are reserved for the deep recesses of our mind until we become sure that hey – they might be willing to do this with us, to let us do things to them. Then we give it a try.

I had so much fun with Saffron that I didn’t give much thought to other women during the time I spent playing with her. After all, I still had a job, and I had too much self-respect to use my power to generate my income for me. No – my power was to be used for _spending_ it. What’s the point of having all this money if you can’t spend it?

Anyway, with my thoughts and attention mostly split between Saffron and work, I had no time to think about the broader implications of my power. I’d almost forgotten the times where I used to think to myself: I wonder what it’ll take to get that hot brunette with those shapely curves in bed in with me? Can she be wined and dined? Does she prefer a more straightforward approach? But these questions all came flooding back when my gaze one day landed upon [her](https://www.missguided.eu/black-fishnet-mesh-ribned-neck-crop-top-10104942).

She was the perfect kind of inviting stranger – the kind you can’t take your eyes off. Face? Check. Tits and bursting cleavage? Check. Dressing kind of sluttily, almost deliberately? Check. Ass? Well, she hasn’t stood up yet, and it’s kind of hard to tell when she’s still sitting down and facing you.

And that’s when I realised: with my power, I knew **exactly** what it would take for her to do anything I wanted her to do. For the first time outside of Saffron, I decided to activate it. I won’t bore you with the details of exactly how, but it’s extremely discreet, and basically works like Google except it always has the precise and correct answers. And it’s all in my head.

So I asked – what’s her name? Selena. I smiled to myself, thinking that she did look like much of a Selena. My thoughts quickly raced to Selena Gomez, before I parked that at the side of my mind; there was a long way to go before I could even meet her. I spent the next 5 minutes asking questions you’d normally never get straight answers to: I learnt that she was open to being propositioned (but it’d better be a good sum of money to get her attention); that I wasn’t exactly her type of guy but she was open (even if she didn’t really know it yet); that she outwardly says that she doesn’t enjoy attention and stares but subconsciously revels in it; that she was biding her time before meeting her friends in two hours; that she was working on her next deadline (she was a graphic designer) and stressed about not being able to meet it in time and possibly having to cut back on her spending.

Armed with all that information, I got my plan in order. I went to the counter to get her favourite drink (oh yes – I asked about that as well) before asking if I could sit down with her to have a few minutes of her time. She was annoyed – briefly – before taking off her earphones and realising that I didn’t just offer to buy her a drink; I already had. Normally, I’d mistake her facial expression for annoyance, but armed with my knowledge I knew she was secretly impressed.

“I thought you looked like a pumpkin spice latte girl – the cute girls always are” I smiled, tilting my head slightly. “Well, for a cold guess, that’s not a bad one – I’ll give you that” she smiled coyly, lying through her teeth so as to not give her surprise away. But I already knew that was her favourite drink, and I nodded somewhat smugly.

“I’ll be straight with you: you really caught my attention by just sitting here, and that’s not something I often say. I know you’re probably busy with whatever you’re doing now” – I gestured to her laptop and her earphones – “and I’m under no illusions as to how precious your time is, so I’m making you an offer. Spend the next hour with me, and I’ll pay you two hundred dollars – no questions asked. All I’m asking for is your time, nothing more.” She raised her eyebrows, seemingly wary of how high a sum that was (but I knew that secretly she was very pleasantly surprised at how forward I was and how much I expressed that interest).

I smiled, continuing, “of course, you might be right to think that there might be something deeply wrong with me if I’m paying you two hundred dollars just for your time. So here’s the deal – if you enjoyed yourself by the end of the hour, you can return me that two hundred. Deal?”

I took out two hundred – cash – and laid it down in front of her. “Sure, sounds like a good deal” she smiled. “Walk with me? I’ll get the staff to look over your stuff” I asked. She nodded.

“I’m John, what’s your name?” and with that, I spent the next 15 minutes asking her just the right questions that I already knew the answers to. I asked her for three tries to get her job right, and I got it right on the second time so that she wouldn’t be creeped out. I “deduced” that she was under some financial strain – not so much as to make her desperate, but enough for her to be a little worried.

It just so happened (well no, actually, I planned it) that when she was talking about her stressors working as a freelancer and her concerns about money, we walked past a hotel. I stopped outside the hotel, pretending to marvel at its beauty. But I’d already booked a room there on my phone before I approached Selena.

“You know, I’ve got a proposition that might make us both very happy, and solve your problems for you. I happen to think that you look just absolutely stunning, and I’d like to get to know you more… intimately.” I turned to look her in the eyes. She didn’t look away. “I think you know by now that money isn’t quite a problem for me the way it might cause for you. So I’m sure we can arrive at a mutually beneficial solution for us both”, I smiled, maintaining eye contact. She still didn’t look away, batting her eyelids slightly. “Okay. What are you offering?”

/

From there, it was a breeze. In barely the blink of an eye, there she was before me in the room, now slowly doing a striptease for me – not that there was much to strip off. She swivelled around on the spot, stopping with her ass facing me in those tight jeans. Unbuttoning them, she slowly slid them off to reveal a pair of bright red panties. She jiggled her ass slightly, pushing those jeans down with each jiggle. When she got them off, she turned to face me, smiling ever-so seductively. It was clear that this wasn’t her first time. “You must have one lucky boyfriend, huh?” I said, my bulge growing larger in my pants. “Used to – yeah. And you must really like what you see, huh” she grinned, her eyes finding their way to the bulge in my pants.

“I wonder what _this_ would do to that bulge?” she feigned ignorance, unclasping her bra to reveal a magnificent set of C-Cups. She jiggled them, to my bulge’s great pleasure and to her corresponding greater delight. She did love being the centre of attention, and I was giving her loads.

Next thing I know, she was on her knees, greedily working my cock in and out of her mouth, all while maintaining eye contact with me. Her head bobbed adorably as I fondled her beautiful breasts with my hands. “This is it”, I thought, “this is what it feels like to have that hot stranger you’ve always wanted to suck you off.” And damn, did that feel good. She was truly giving me a bang for my buck (in ways more than one), as she picked up the intensity and speed she was going at. I stroked the back of her head gently, as if telling her to slow down. She paused for air, “how’s that, mister?”, grinning.

In response, I only gestured to the bed, where I sat down before she gently pinned me down on the bed with hand, removing her panties with the other. Now that we were really getting into it, her sexually active – even dominant – side was showing its true colours, not that I was complaining. She gently slid her now-moist pussy onto my hardened shaft, letting out a deep moan as my cock slid into her pussy. It was tight, and I couldn’t help but also be overcome by a wave of deep pleasure. My hands moved to grab her ass as she bounced up and down on my cock, my hands gently guiding her up and down before increasing its intensity. My hands found my way up to her tits, playing with them and teasing her nipples as she continued to ride me with increasing vigour.

“Come closer”, I gasped. She obliged, allowing me to suck on her nipples as her breathing steadily grew heavier, right next to my ear. I began to time my thrusts along with hers, the “schlop” sound becoming increasingly loud as our pleasure started to peak.

“Let me cum in your mouth.”, I said almost breathlessly, “I’ll give you another hundred”.

“Wait!” she said, continuing at her almost frenetic pace before she gave a little shudder and a much louder moan. “I’m surprised you lasted longer than me. You know what? I’ll give this to you for free.”, she said in between breaths, catching her breath.

Getting off me, she gently slid my cock into her mouth, one hand working on my balls and the other playing with herself. “Look at me, Selena.” I stared straight at her, before she returned the gaze. She picked up her pace, and before long her mouth was filled with my cum, and I was filled with satisfaction. I know she must have been satisfied too, because I later found five hundred dollars just lying around in the room.

I never saw Selena again, but my encounter with her opened me up to a world of possibilities with all those other hot strangers and busty housewives that occasionally opened up nasty trains of thought in me. The next time those thoughts happened, I put them into action. But that’s a story for another day.


End file.
